


Reflect

by orphan_account



Category: Rick and Morty, Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Morty trying to help, Rick being self destructive, in a very Morty way, trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 04:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13333305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “W-Wha, whadya think yur doin s..uh.. sneaking around at.. at thiisss timmmmooorty.” He slurred, scanning the teen with his icey, alcohol clouded eyes. For once Morty was glad for his grandpas drinking habits.“Nothing! I was just uh.. getting a glass of water.” He chirped. Rick narrowed his eyes, standing up a little straighter and crossing his arms over his chest.“Then wh-what’s that yur hiding behind uh… behind your back there huh?.”Morty started to sweat





	Reflect

“M-Morty, instead of just uh, instead of just standing there, why don’t you make yourself useful and grab me the- a screwdriver.”

_Crap._

The teen cringed, but did as he was told. He swore he had made a near soundless entrance as he even noted to pad into Ricks domain without his slippers on as to avoid a clacking sound. Clearly his grandpa still had no use for a hearing aid just yet.

Rick continued to fiddle with whatever he was working on, purposefully letting Morty squirm in the awkward silence of the garage before clearing his throat.

“So a-are you gunna tell me what you want, or am I just gunna have to work with your heavy breathing over my-my left shoulder all fucking night long.” He croaked, still not moving his gaze from his tinkering. Morty sighed, giving up his plan for a smoother way to go about this and walking over to the workbench to explain his looming.

Now right next to Rick, Morty had a better look at what he was working on. The itam of Ricks obsession for the past five weeks now lay on the workbench, currently being tended to by shaky, semi-uncertain hands.

Morty wasn’t quite sure, but It seemed to be some sort of cylinder with clear glistening gel encasing one end of it, and dials, switches, and buttons along the sides. Some of which lit up with certain touches from Ricks careful fingers.

He moved his gaze to the older man’s face.

Violet shadows under his eyes and set lines complemented the furrowed brow in a very guttural sense. It made Rick actually look his age. But Morty has known this messy haired man for quite sometime now, and from what he could tell in the others rather bland, slightly pressed features, it’s that whatever he was working on, it was important. Though he knew that already from the first week alone.

“Uh.. Rick?”  
He started, his voice cracked from nerves and tiredness as it was probably about three after midnight at the moment. Rick only grunted in response, either urging Morty to continue or warning him to fuck off. He’d have to take that chance.

“I… I uh..”  
He tried to think of a good way to put it, forming experimental sentences in his head, but none of them seemed to fit what he was going for.

_This is a confrontation? Aw geez.. that doesn’t sound right.. uh. Can we talk about ya know…_

“Jesus fuck- Morty jus- just spit it out!”  
The curly haired teen quickly backed away as Rick spun around in his chair to face him. He looked pissed. Morty sputtered a bit, but didn’t lose his composure as he watched Rick glare at him now from across the distance he’d made between them. Ricks hands clawed and skittering at the tops of thighs like angry spiders, all but growling out his next words.

His body was animated as he lurched with each emphasis.

“Y-you fucking little! Why’d you even come in here then?! W-wa you just messing with me now? Because I d-don’t have time for this! I can’t! I-I I’m so close here Morty! So—so agh!”

Morty still didn’t reply. He was sort of expecting this kind of reaction from the older man anyway. If things went badly of course… which they did.

They seemed to stare at each other for eternity after that. The lingering moonlight making its way into the room from the large garage door windows made him look deathly pale, and his grandpa downright ghostly.

Rick inhaled, and even that was loud enough in the moment to make Morty flinch. Next was the exhale of breath that seemed to contain all of Ricks anger plus his soul as the older man deflated on the spot.

“Leave.”

It was small, breathy. Morty knew if he tried to push more something might just break… and the thought alone of being able to do that at this point was downright terrifying.  
.  
.  
.

  
“Okay.”

 

So he left. Running out of the garage and storming up the stairs as quietly as he could before diving into his bed.

He lay there for a while, letting the tension from earlier slowly drain out of his body before sitting up and hugging his knees. He didn’t cry. He told himself he was done crying over the little things. He was 17 now on the brink of turning 18 in just a few months. Now was not the time to sulk.

He was planning on confronting Rick on his recent behavior. Now it wasn’t rare at all for Rick to pull all-nighters or skip meals, but it seemed as though the man had quit both all together; not to mention their lack of “adventures.” Usually Rick would be practically jumping up and down asking Morty to go with him to get something, or to show him something he had found. Now Rick left in swirling green portals on the random, not coming home for days at a time and coming back a mess, only to be a hermit once more.

It was all for that stupid contraption he was working on. Whatever it was, Morty despised it. Nothing was worth seeing his grandpa turn into a stranger before his eyes. But what also pissed him off was the lack of interest from his family. Everytime he would ask about Rick they would simply wave it off as him doing his “thing.” So it was up to him to get to the bottom of things. Rick may not want him around, but that hasn’t stopped him from being a pain in his ass before.

Filled with new determination, Morty practically hopped out of his bed and ran to the hall.

Now facing Ricks bedroom door, he started to question how far he was willing to go. It was much more intimidating than the garage.

_Aw geez. What if I get caught! I’m dead!_

Morty took a step back, thinking twice on the game plan. 

_But Rick needs help. Whatever the hell is going on with him and that stupid thing, the least I can do is search for some goddamn clues._

He gripped the knob, slowly turning it before cracking the door open. The stream of light showcased a small cot with a few boxes under it. On the wall there seemed to be a cork board with red string decorating and connecting the related info pinned onto it. It all screamed army brat, but it wasn’t the time for that. He slowly walked into the small living space, taking note to the lack of mess in the room before crouching by the cot and dragging the closest box out. He pulled out his phone, turning on the flashlight and searching the box for a label.

The box was labeled in black sharpie, but it wasn’t what he was looking for. He pushed the box labeled “ _foldology_ ,” aside and slid over the next box. Checking over for a label he found this one labeled “ _flesh_ curtains,” And decided it was worth investigating. He quickly opened the box and started rifling through its contents.

What he ended up finding were a bunch of tapes with weird labels, most of which weren’t in any human language as far as he could tell. A few pictures of a younger Rick adorned in punk rock clothes and a couple of piercings next to bird person and that scary cat guy Morty had found jerking it off in a dresser once. Rick seemed to be the guitarist of the band, though in some of the pictures he seemed to join in once and a while with a mic.

For someone who looked to be in their mid 20’s, Ricks hair was still a crisp white much to Mortys surprise. He had assumed it had just gotten that way with age up until now.

“Huh..”

He was about to close the box up before something else caught his eye. Another picture seemed to be stuck to the back of the one he had just put down. Morty carefully pulled the two apart, inspecting the newfound picture.

It looked much older than the others.

Now whoever took the picture, Rick seemed to have been close to them because he wasn’t looking into the camera at all; oh no. Rick seemed to be too busy smiling at the person behind it. It was a foreign expression to see on his grandpa's face, and it only served to raise more questions on his past.

What was also weird about the image was what Rick was wearing. A white vest with fitted white pants all draped in a loose white hooded cloak. It was all so crisp. It also looked like he had come from the middle ages. But the oddest thing by far was the large white diamond that seemed imbedded into Rick's forehead, stretching past his hairline and stopping just before his brow.

“What the.. “

_Is this some kind of dress up? What kind of shit was Rick into?_

Sliding the box aside, he pulled up the last box. He checked it over for a label, finding that this one wasn’t written in black sharpie, but instead seemed to be half written, half scratched in with a dying blue pen. It read “ _homeworld_.” Morty took a moment to stare, whatever the hell that meant, he guessed he was about to find out.

He carefully opened the box, finding only small leather journal inside. Upon picking it up, he found that it was closed with a chain and lock. Though the lock didn’t seem to have a keyhole rather than a small brick of glittering gel much like the gel on Ricks contraption.

Speaking of whom…

the sound of the garage door slamming shut and low grumbles making their way towards the stareway had Morty downright hyperventilating as he jerked into motion, putting away the boxes he had pulled out and running out of the room with the journal.

Not fast enough however. Just as he was about to close his bedroom door, a foot wedged it’s way into the jam. Morty quickly held the journal behind his back as Rick sloppily opened the door wider so that he could slouch in a bit. His acidic breath made Morty’s nose scrunch up, but he took the moment to stare at the others forehead as well. There didn’t seem to be anything there now. Not even a mark. Only fine wrinkles from years of facial movements.

“W-Wha, whadya think yur doin s..uh.. sneaking around at.. at thiisss timmmmooorty.” He slurred, scanning the teen with his icey, alcohol clouded eyes. For once Morty was glad for his grandpas drinking habits.

“Nothing! I was just uh.. getting a glass of water.” He chirped. Rick narrowed his eyes, standing up a little straighter and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Then wh-what’s that yur hiding behind uh… behind your back there huh?.”

Morty started to sweat.

“It’s nothing.” He took a chance, flicking his wrist and successfully tossing the journal onto his bed before bringing his hands out palms up for Rick to see. Rick didn’t bother looking at his hands, and Morty wished he did as Ricks gaze never left his face, his expression shifting from angry drunk to weary old man as he brought a hand up to massage his temple.

“Fine, don’t-don’t tell me then.. l-like I givea shit..”

He mumbled, turning on his heel and stumbling over to his own room.

 _At least he’s getting a bit of rest_..

But Morty didn’t dare take a breath until the others door shut with a soft click. When it did, he closed his door and glared at the journal now facing him on the bed.

“You better be worth it.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t expect a second part. I tend to make one shots that lead nowhere. I just couldn’t stand that no one was making a white diamond Rick story. I searched high and low and still I got jack squat. So here you go. A half assed half story that took me half an hour to write. 
> 
> Since there is little to no chance of a sequel, Im kinda curious if people caught on to what was going on. 
> 
> Also feel free to give me one shot suggestions. I’m trying to get back into writing and one shots really help me with that.


End file.
